The Face of War
by CottageGhost
Summary: The anniversary of DDay stirs some memories of a bygone era...


_Thanks to Mary and Kathy for their comments and their editorial help – much appreciated, ladies!_

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**_The Face of War_**

            The weather was enticingly beautiful on this June afternoon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the breeze, coming from the south, was pleasantly warm. Lured out by the clement weather, Carolyn took a deep breath of the fresh sea air as she adjusted her light windbreaker, then headed down the well-worn path leading to the beach. She had just finished watching the D-Day coverage on television, and she needed to let her emotions settle a bit. It wasn't like she had lost any loved ones to war, but the solemnity of the proceedings always got to her, and while it did that in a good way, it still stirred strong emotions that she needed to get a grip on before moving on.

            As she began walking along the strip of sand, it occurred to her that since moving to Gull Cottage – and meeting its resident specter, Captain Gregg – memorials held in honor of the veterans had taken on a slightly different meaning. The Captain had fought in the Mexican War, long before it was decided to commemorate the sacrifice made by all the men and women who had fought in different conflicts and had either lived to mourn their fallen comrades or died fighting for the rights of others. Still, he had seen war, been marked by it, and in a manner of speaking, had helped in shaping things the way they were now by doing so.

            The strange thing, though, was that he hardly ever said anything about it. Oh sure, he mentioned the Battle of Vera Cruz, but he never gave specifics. Of the innumerable tales he had to tell – _had_ told any number of times, in some cases – this was one he seemed bent on not telling. Had something happened to him there, she wondered? Something so scarring that to even mention it would bring with it a parade of ghastly images and painful memories? He had told her once that, because of his present state, thoughts had a far more material quality for him than what she considered reality. Was that why he avoided the subject, then? Because shaking the horror of those memories entailed far more effort than to do so in the mortal plane?

            A whiff of pipe smoke made her turn her face into the breeze. There, a few yards away, was Captain Gregg, ambling away slowly down the beach with his peculiar rolling gait, one hand in his coat pocket, the other holding the pipe as he walked. She called out to him, quickening her own pace as she did so to catch up with him. Ever gallant, he waited patiently for her to reach him, bowing gracefully to her when she came to a stop by his side. "Out to enjoy the weather, my dear?" he asked with a smile as he began walking again, measuring his gait to accommodate her smaller one.

            "I could ask you the same question," she replied, looking up at him as they made their way leisurely toward the point. She was captivated by him – by the way he held himself, with his back impeccably straight; by the way he looked at his surroundings when he was outside like this, his eyes slightly pinched, their azure depths alert and far-seeing, as if he were searching the horizon for something, she knew not what.

            "Hmm," was all he said, keeping his eyes in front of him.

            Seeing that he obviously wasn't in a talking mood, Carolyn continued walking by his side in silence, intrigued by his moodiness. Were his thoughts mirroring her own regarding the significance of the day, she wondered?

            "Mrs. Muir." Carolyn looked up, only to find that he was standing several steps behind. She had been so caught up in her own reverie that she had been completely oblivious to the small sigh that had escaped him, as well as his stopping when he had realized what a boor he was being with her. Feeling her cheeks burn, she walked back to where he was standing. "I'm sorry, I was –"

            "No, I'm the one who should apologize for my rude behavior," he said with a shake of his head. He sighed again. "But all this talk of war…" His eyes grew softer as he looked down at her. "Instead of appreciating your company, I've ruined your walk with my surly mood. I'm truly sorry, my dear."

            Smiling at his apology, Carolyn moved to some nearby rocks, silently inviting him to join her. She was gratified to see him sit beside her without a second thought. Feeling she might have an opening, she asked, "Does it bring back bad memories?"

            He fell silent again, but in reflection, not refusal. "Partly," he replied at last. "I think it's the loss of innocence I mourn more than anything else, although the memories are bad enough," he finished in a quieter tone, his gaze darkening in remembrance of events Carolyn could only guess at. Noticing her interested gaze, the Captain took another puff of his pipe and settled closer to her, drawing comfort from her presence. "Strangely enough," he continued quietly, a slight frown creasing his brow, "what sticks with me isn't so much the horrors I witnessed as my first encounter with the enemy. I was no more than a pup, really, and while I had already been at sea for a few years, I had never fought in a conflict before. So, of course, the thought of going to war, instead of scaring me, exhilarated me. My head quickly filled with romantic notions of glory and heroic deeds that I, of course, would no doubt be called upon to perform." He snorted, shaking his head at the foolishness and innocence of youth. "War, I quickly realized, is anything but glamorous. It is a combination of frenetic work and mind-numbing idleness at the best of times, and a vision of hell in its purest form at the worst of them." He looked out toward the bay as he wrestled with memories that Carolyn felt sure would make her wildest imaginings pale in comparison. She shivered in sympathy. "The first action I was ever involved in was at Vera Cruz proper – but not in the capacity I had first imagined. After the brass realized how impregnable the fortress was, it was decided that we would attempt a siege. The army's cannons not being sufficient for the task at hand, Captain Lee – who later became _General_ Lee – suggested the use of the ships' guns. They wouldn't be using all of them in any case, he argued; why not move some of them to the beach and use their superior fire power to batter down the fortress's walls? That, however, required extra help. So, when faced with the choice of remaining on the ship and being idle or jumping into the thick of the fray, the decision was quite simple." He gave Carolyn a small, knowing smile.

            "Of course," she concurred with a smile of her own.

            Taking another draw of his pipe, he went on. "Hindsight being what it is, it wasn't long before I began pining for that idleness I had so quickly spurned." He sobered, shaking his head. "Oh, it was pleasant enough at first – we were doing something, working up a good sweat and putting on a good show of strength and spirits for the Mexicans' benefit. That didn't last long; the heat made itself known with a vengeance, as did the fleas we had churned up by digging pits in the sand." He pursed his lips in remembered annoyance. "The critters were everywhere and got into everything, to the point where remaining in motion became a necessity." He moved his eyes back to the bay, his tone turning pensive. "That's where the evening found me – stepping outside of the tent I was sharing with the other men, unable to sit still a moment longer lest I go stark raving mad from the bites of the blasted creatures." His voice grew quieter. "I also needed to get away from the moans of the sick – yellow fever, along with the fleas, had fast become a constant of the proceedings. So, there I was, making my way toward the perimeter of camp, when I thought I caught a flash of something. The sentries hadn't moved, so I thought I had imagined it. I kept walking, having dismissed the occurrence already, when I saw movement again. Deciding not to rouse suspicion, I kept my pace and moved toward the source of it, anxious to get to the bottom of this. Was it simply some local night crawler, on its regular foraging expedition, or was it a spy, come to number our forces and report them to Santa Anna?" He puffed again on his pipe. "My course set, I started into the clump of trees and brush bordering the edge of camp, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. That's when it happened."

            "What? What happened?" Carolyn asked, totally caught up in his story.

            Surprisingly, he chuckled. "I came… ahem… back-to-back, let's just say… with one of the locals." A faint smile remained on his lips as he turned to Carolyn after hearing her gasp, then start to giggle as she pictured the encounter. "In a way, I'm glad no one was around to witness this; it could have been rather embarrassing." He shook his head. "At the contact, we both jumped like startled rabbits, promptly tripping on the roots crisscrossing the ground. He fell on his back and I ended up on top of him." His eyes narrowed and his voice grew quieter as he recalled the moment. "When I heard the scrape of metal, I fumbled for my dirk, only to realize I wasn't wearing it. I did the first thing I thought of: I grabbed him by the throat with one hand even as I searched the surrounding ground with the other, finally coming up with a rock. By that time, he had managed to pull the dagger he was carrying out of its sheath and was now pointing it at me." He could still see it all, clear as day: a terracotta face under pitch black bangs that nearly fell into eyes so wide that the whites showed all around the dark irises; the rusty, crooked blade of the dagger, aimed at the hollow of the young midshipman's throat, but shaking so badly in the boy's hands that it could have pierced Daniel in any of a dozen other places if his opponent had had the presence of mind to actually use it. "For a few tense moments there, we simply looked at each other, barely daring to breathe or bat an eyelash. It occurred to me in a flash that, given my size, I could probably overcome him easily, blade or no blade. But once I started cooling down and was able to think again, I realized something: that boy was every bit as lost and scared as I was. We'd never seen each other before this; he'd certainly never done anything to me that would warrant the loss of his life. From what I could see, all he was after was food. That's all."

            "What did you do next?" Carolyn asked, spellbound.

            "I dropped the rock I was holding, looking him in the eye the whole time, then let go slowly of his throat. I sat back on my heels, showing him that he was free to go. He looked at me silently for a few moments, then he got up quietly and started moving back toward the walls, but not before nodding at me. He understood. You know," the Captain said thoughtfully, "I think it was at that very moment that I learned the most important thing about war."

            "And that is?"

            "That the face of war is very different from the face of the enemy." An edge of bitterness touched both his voice and the blue depths of his eyes as he continued. "After that encounter, I was called upon to take lives in order to preserve others; it was my duty to do so, but I never derived any pleasure from it. And while I've seen enough death to last me a couple of lifetimes, the one memory that overshadows it all is the one of that boy." Both his gaze and his voice softened as he finally turned to her. "The face I saw that day was the face of war; I can only hope it's the same one he saw as he looked up at me." Suddenly uncomfortable with the level of revelation he had indulged in, he got up, clearing his throat, tapping his pipe against the palm of his hand to empty it now that it had gone out. "Shall we head back, my dear? The children will be home soon, looking for you."

            "Of course." Somewhat reluctantly, Carolyn got up and started back toward the path leading home alongside him, looking pensively ahead as they ambled along. Thinking back on all he had said, Carolyn could only hope that her son would never get to be either one of those faces for anyone.


End file.
